


love you in the dark (no one has to see)

by magnificentbirb



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: M/M, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Soft Lazy Morning Makeouts, no beta we die like men, soft soft soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23554570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnificentbirb/pseuds/magnificentbirb
Summary: It’s common knowledge that anyone rooming with San will generally end up with an armful of San by the time the sun rises.Seonghwa and San share a bed, and in the early morning, Seonghwa grows a bit bold.
Relationships: Choi San/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 25
Kudos: 323





	love you in the dark (no one has to see)

**Author's Note:**

> listen,,,,, [the soft sanhwas](https://twitter.com/seonghwafiles/status/1242630051616526336) have been a lot recently.
> 
> also it's day 24 of quarantine and i might be a bit touch-starved and i needed an outlet.
> 
> enjoy, and stay safe~!
> 
> *
> 
> title from "memo" by years & years

Seonghwa wakes early, before the sun has properly risen, when the room is still dim and full of shadows, and is briefly confused to find that he’s alone on his side of the bed. It’s common knowledge that anyone rooming with San will generally end up with an armful of San by the time the sun rises, and Seonghwa half-expected to find himself being thoroughly cuddled by the time he awoke. He tries not to dwell on the vague twinge of disappointment he feels upon waking alone.

Curious and still a bit bleary, Seonghwa rolls onto his other side, facing the middle of the bed and his still-sleeping bedmate. San’s face is buried between the pillow and a familiar bear plushie, only his eyes and tousled dark hair visible. His arms are wrapped tightly around the plush, and Seonghwa sighs quietly.

So that’s why he didn’t get cuddled during the night.

Seonghwa watches San sleep for a minute or so, his chest warm and fluttery, and then he makes a decision that a more-awake Seonghwa would probably find silly:

He deserves morning snuggles more than some bear plushie.

Slowly, careful not to disturb San too much, Seonghwa scootches closer to the middle of the bed. He plucks at the bear plushie a bit, and San makes an adorable muffled sound of protest, arms tightening around the bear, burying his face further into its fluff. Seonghwa makes a face and tugs the bear carefully out of San’s arms, tossing it further down the bed, then quickly gathers the already pouting ( _but still mostly asleep_ ) San into his arms. 

San’s brow clears, and he latches onto Seonghwa immediately, burrowing close enough to make Seonghwa flush a bit. San noses at Seonghwa’s neck briefly, a contented hum rumbling low in his throat, and Seonghwa tries not to focus on the way his tummy flutters at the sound, dangerously fond. He traces a hand over San’s shoulder, down his arm, over the bare skin of his forearm and back up again, marveling at the way the gentle touch—just fingertips ghosting over thin fabric and skin—makes San shiver pleasantly. Feeling bold, knowing that they’re still mostly hidden from the camera by the deep pre-dawn shadows, Seonghwa skims his fingertips higher up on San’s shoulder, past the collar of his dark shirt, over the soft skin of his neck, which makes San hum again and arch his neck gracefully, allowing Seonghwa’s fingers more access, which… well.

Seonghwa rather enjoys that.

Heart thumping, Seonghwa brings a hand up to San’s jaw, lets his thumb caress San’s cheekbone, his cheek, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, as softly as he can, San’s bottom lip, soft and plush and warm. San’s eyes are still closed, and Seonghwa hears his breath hitch softly. Afraid he might’ve finally overstepped, Seonghwa starts to pull his hand away, but San catches his wrist, his eyes finally sliding open, heavy-lidded and dark. He meets Seonghwa’s gaze and holds it, then turns his head and gently presses his lips to Seonghwa’s palm. 

Seonghwa’s breath leaves him in a rush. 

He opens his mouth, possibly about to say something, although he has no idea what, but then San starts trailing soft kisses across his skin, the heel of his palm, the pad of his thumb, to the dip of his wrist, tender lips against delicate bones.

Seonghwa finds himself hypnotized, watching with wide eyes and tremulous breath as San kisses the inside of his forearm, just the barest touch of lips on skin, making Seonghwa shiver the same way San did mere moments ago.

San’s hand leaves Seonghwa’s wrist to thread gently into Seonghwa’s hair, fingernails dragging over sensitive skin, and Seonghwa closes his eyes automatically at the sensation, letting out a slow breath. 

“San…” he breathes, and then San’s hand curls just behind Seonghwa’s ear, ghosts over his jaw, and delicate fingers brush the edge of Seonghwa’s lips, tentative, testing.

“May I?” San’s voice is lower than usual, still a bit rough with sleep. Seonghwa feels that voice deep in his core, and he can’t help but nod, eyes flickering open again just in time to watch San’s own eyes close, to watch as San leans in, head tilting gracefully, his hand still on Seonghwa’s cheek.

San’s lips are soft against his, and Seonghwa’s heart trills at the tender press of the kiss, so careful as to feel almost timid, even though it’s by no means their first time. Seonghwa lets his hand trail down San’s side, slips his fingers beneath the fabric of San’s shirt, skates his fingertips over the warm, smooth skin of San’s waist, tugging him closer, until they’re pressed chest to chest.

San’s lips part on an inhale as Seonghwa hugs him closer, and Seonghwa uses the opportunity to deepen the kiss, open-mouthed and warm, unable to hold back a quiet, desperate sound as his tongue meets San’s.

San cups the nape of Seonghwa’s neck, holding him close, and Seonghwa loses himself for a few long, wonderful minutes in sensation: the heat of San’s body pressed against his, all lithe muscle and hidden strength; the soft fall of San’s hair as Seonghwa runs his fingers through messy dark locks; the faint, needy noises San makes as Seonghwa kisses him harder, as he slides his knee between San’s legs.

“Hyung,” San breathes, pulling back slightly, his eyes closed and flushed lips parted, and lord, but Seonghwa wishes he could save that image forever. “Wait. Let’s not mess up the sheets.”

And it’s only at that point that Seonghwa remembers ah, yes. Camera. Rented rooms. Sheets that don’t belong to them, and a variety show to film in a few scant hours.

“Right.” Seonghwa pulls his leg back and leans in to kiss the corner of San’s mouth. “Sorry. Got carried away.”

San smiles at him, eyes open again and glinting in the dim pre-dawn light, all dimples and flushed cheeks and ruffled hair, and Seonghwa kisses him again, his hands cupping San’s cheeks, holding him close. San closes his hands gently around Seonghwa’s wrists, skimming his fingertips lightly up and down the inside of Seonghwa’s forearms, shivery, soft. They kiss for a while more, until Seonghwa is panting slightly, until San is breathless beneath him, until their lips are red and tingling and well used and Seonghwa’s skin feels like a livewire, warm and trembling and alive.

The room is still dim when they finally settle back against the pillows once more, San snuggled into Seonghwa’s chest, Seonghwa’s arms around him, one hand gently rubbing his back, but calmer, now. Comfortable.

They lie in cozy silence for a few minutes, just breathing, and then San gently pokes Seonghwa’s chest.

“What time do you think they’ll come get us?”

Seonghwa squints at the wall. “Early,” he says, “but not crazy early. Maybe eight?”

“We should get some more sleep, then.”

“Mm.” Seonghwa presses a kiss to the top of San’s head. “Sounds like a plan.”

They fall back into silence, and in a few minutes, Seonghwa feels San fall asleep again, his head growing heavy against Seonghwa’s shoulder, his breath evening out. Seonghwa holds him close, content and sleepy, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. There’s a warmth flitting in his stomach, like a firefly in a jar, and just as he’s wondering how he can save that feeling forever, he drifts off into sleep, and remembers nothing else until sunlight, and music, and Song Mingi hollering loud enough to wake the dead.

*

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter, if you like~ ♡
> 
> [main account](https://twitter.com/aintitnifty) | [writing account](https://twitter.com/magnificentbirb)


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